White Horse
by effortless
Summary: Previously titled "Keep Holding On". His betrayal has plagued their lives for seven years. Can Troy finally pull himself together and give Gabriella the life he always knew she deserved, or will he be forced to move on? Troy/Gabriella.
1. recognition

Title: White Horse (previously Keep Holding On)

Rating: M

Summary: His betrayal has plagued their lives for seven years. Can Troy finally pull himself together and give Gabriella the life he always knew she deserved, or will he be forced to move on? Troy/Gabriella.

Disclaimer: Disney couldn't handle me.

Word Count: 2726

A/N: Edit from 7/15/09--This story has been renamed to "White Horse", because I feel that it's a more appropriate title. Sorry for the confusion, and I hope you keep reading! :)

A pretty long author's note before we get this show on the road. I'd appreciate it a lot if you would take the time to read! :D

First off, this is going to be my first multi-chaptered story in a very long time, and I'm really really excited. I've been writing one-shots for so long that I think it's time to force myself out of my comfort zone, and challenge myself. Since school is starting up again for me, I'll be buried under a mountain of homework soon for sure—but part of my self-challenge is for me to write and update regularly. Reviews always get me going, and I appreciate every single one of you who have taken the time to both read and review anything I have written – something that seems to be increasingly rare these days. :(

Last but not least: this fic is **completely** AU, but it's so much more fun that way! Please keep in mind that although this first chapter is told through Sharpay's point of view, it is definitely a Troyella. :) I think Sharpay is an awesome character, and it's fun to play with different viewpoints; it was also really amusing to play up her snarky side while writing her. I spend a lot of time writing from either Troy or Gabriella's perspective, so this was a fresh challenge for me as well. She may seen OOC at first (especially regarding her profession), but I hope you'll find that she's still very much like she is in the movies; strong-willed, sassy, and incredibly tenacious. ;)

In addition, under the area of a slight disclaimer, I really honestly do not know that much about police departments and how they operate. I don't really feel that it's something that can be fully researched and understood from my perspective, so everything that happens in this story in that regard is not supposed to be 100% accurate, and it's not the focus of this story.

Now finally, on to the story! I hope you all like it. :)

* * *

I was a dreamer before you went and let me down  
Now its too late for you and your White Horse,  
To come around.

And there you are on your knees  
Begging for forgiveness,  
Begging for me  
Just like I always wanted,  
But I'm so sorry

_White Horse_, Taylor Swift.

* * *

"Evans, report to Mercy West as soon as possible – rape victim. The Carver's fifth one, the sick son of a bitch. We figure you're…err. The best suited to handle her."

"What?" came an offended, exhausted cry of disbelief in response to her commanding officer, just shy of an indignant shriek.

Sharpay Evans stood with her eyes wide and mouth gaping, desk half-cleaned and belongings nearly packed for the night, nails tapping out an irritated beat on the table beside her as she ignored the poorly disguised laughs and hoots she was currently receiving from her fellow (and very male) police officers.

Assholes.

"I'm sorry sir, can you repeat that?" Sharpay snapped to the speaker box above the rising cackles and taunts, flipping off her friends and blowing her hair out of her face in an unladylike fashion as she did so. The howls of laughter mounted, and she rolled her eyes.

"Mercy West. Rape victim. Come on Evans, you're a girl – talk to her. Apparently none of the guys over there can get any details regarding her rapist out of her, and we need to find the guy – this is the fifth time too many that he's marked a girl for his own, it's getting out of hand. And frankly, it's a little embarrassing that we haven't caught him yet. Best police department in the state my ass, there's not enough work being done on this case. I don't know what the officers over there think they're doing, so far they've gotten diddly squat—"

"Well, with all due respect sir," she snorted. "That's because you've got _guys_ talking to a female rape victim. It's no wonder she doesn't feel comfortable around them."

"Point well taken," the Captain responded. "Which is why I need you to go in there and talk to her."

"Me?" Sharpay replied incredulously, giving the evil eye to someone across the room who had nearly fallen out of his chair with laughter.

"You, Evans. That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Uhh, yes, sir, it is. But, I mean…honestly, sir? You'd be much better off asking someone who's more, um—"

"Come on, Evans," the voice boomed from the speaker box. "You know you can do it, you just don't want to. Work some of that feminine magic we all know you've got hidden under that uniform somewhere."

"Sir! That's completely—"

"Mercy West, Evans. Be there, and soon."

Despite his best efforts to conceal what he was really saying, Sharpay could hear it anyway: _This is your big chance to prove yourself. Don't blow it._

Authority finally replaced humor in his tone, and a click was heard as the Captain denied her chance to answer. Sharpay sighed, resigned to her fate and grabbing her badge and keys.

"Hey Sharpay," came a shout from somewhere behind her as the laughter erupted in full force now that the Captain had turned a deaf ear to their voices. "I don't think he's got the right officer. I think Cross here's more of a woman than you are."

Jason Cross flushed at the comment, fidgeting a little as Sharpay reached over without a moment's pause and thwacked the offender upside the head.

"Ouch!"

"Stop making fun of my partner. If anyone's missing a dick it's you," Sharpay snarked, eliciting even more laughter, a little less of it directed at her this time. "And just because Jason's a complete dork doesn't mean that he doesn't have feelings, you know," she continued, swinging her bag over her shoulder and patting Jason on the back.

"Aww, Sharpay, we're just giving him shit. You know how it is. Hey, want to show us some of that – what did he call it? – _feminine magic_ Captain's praying to God that you possess?"

"Fuck you," Sharpay sang in response as she sailed out the door.

* * *

Sharpay arrived at Mercy West twenty-five minutes later, pulling her cruiser to a stop and maneuvering through the automatic doors, rushing up the stairs to the room where the fifth rape victim was being held.

"Here," she panted to the attending officers, dumping her bag at the foot of the chairs lining the side of the hallway opposite the room and readjusting her badge. "What have I missed?"

Troy Bolton looked up, shrugging as he flicked his hair out of his eyes. Troy was one of the few officers that Sharpay was close to, and at the moment, she couldn't have been more thankful for his presence; her nerves were beginning to get the better of her. However, Sharpay knew from previous experience that it would be too good to be true if his blockhead of a partner wasn't present.

"Nothing much. Chad's in there right now trying to get something out of her," Troy said, and she rolled her eyes. No way was he going to be successful in any sense of the word. And no wonder Captain had said that nobody was getting anything done over here. "But apparently the girl won't talk." _Like I said._ "Which, I mean, is pretty frustrating. We still haven't caught this asshole and Captain's riding us about it. Why can't she just—"

"Troy, you ass," Sharpay berated him as she slumped down into a seat adjacent to his. "The girl has just been _raped_. By the fucking Carver nut, no less. Give her some time to come around. Have you…have you been in to see her?"

"No," he replied, completely unaffected by her blunt insult. "Like it'd do any good anyway. Isn't that what you're here for?"

"Shut up," she responded automatically, punching him in the shoulder. "And what the hell were you thinking sending _Danforth_ in there? Can I just go in?"

"Be my guest."

Chad Danforth stepped out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind him. The strange expression of disbelief mixed with concern on his face, which was usually one of incoherence or confusion, was the only thing that stopped Sharpay from making her typical rude remark whenever he was in range of her eyesight.

"She's damaged, man," he whispered, nodding towards the door. "I've never seen a rape victim this bad, not even any of the Carver's other four victims. She looks like she's been through hell, and you can tell that she fought pretty fucking hard too. Kinda looks like she almost won, but…"

He stopped short as annoyance crossed his features.

"We've got to find this son of a bitch, you guys," Chad said, looking pissed as hell all of a sudden. "I don't even know this girl, but you have to be pretty twisted to fuck someone up like that asshole did to this lady."

Sharpay stood at that, brushing off her pants.

"I'm going in," she said, "and I'll do my best, but if either of you expect some weird gesture of femininity or whatever bullshit the Captain told you to rise up from out of nowhere, solve all your problems, and then you end up disappointed, I'm _s__o_ going to say I told you so."

Taking a deep breath, Sharpay entered the room and squinted in the bright light. Every single lamp, fluorescent bulb, and source of light had been turned on and utilized – even the ones in the bathroom, where the door left wide open.

The victim was afraid to be in the dark.

Sharpay's gaze snapped to the rape victim, lying motionless on the bed as the surrounding machines beeped and whirred steadily.

Her breath hissed as she took in the damages; the victim's right leg was raised, bound in what looked like a cast and thick bandages; her skin was mottled with splotches of purple and black, green and yellow, deeply bruised and shadowed; one eye was swollen shut, and her hair was matted to the side with blood. Angry, finger-shaped bruises and the dark imprints of two brutal, controlling hands had formed on her arms and neck, and her body was covered with scratches, both deep gashes and light scrapes, and lines of blood.

With a shiver, Sharpay realized why the Carver had been given his title. The cuts on her body were tainted with a cruel precision and merciless attention that formed delicate, compellingly intricate patterns, as if the Carver had taken a scalpel and planned out his incisions; but she couldn't make heads or tails of what they were supposed to mean.

Shaking herself, Sharpay did her best to focus on the victim's other injuries; however, half of her body wasn't even visible anymore. The victim was too heavily wrapped in gauze and bandages. Sharpay felt another shiver run down her spine; surely the damages underneath the hospital gown and dressings were even more gruesome.

"Ma'am, my name is Officer Evans, I'm working alongside Officer Danforth. I—"

She paused. The victim's one open eye stared at the same spot on the wall it had been when Sharpay had come into the room; it was as if she was gone, lost in her own world; and Sharpay's speaking had done absolutely nothing to rouse her.

"I know you've been through a um, a rough time," she continued, trying to stick to formality. Jason always told her that she got too emotionally invested in her cases, too attached, and she didn't want yet another reason for any of the other officers (or even worse, her Captain) to think that she wasn't qualified to do her job.

Despite popular opinion, Sharpay had discovered, being a woman didn't always have its perks. In fact, sometimes it kind of backfired on you.

"But you're safe now," Sharpay said, standing stock still at the foot of the bed, as if she'd been infected with the victim's state of immobility. "Officers are going to be positioned outside your door for the remainder of your time here, at the very least. We can work out something when it comes time for your release. And ma'am I…I really hate to push, I know it's all happening pretty fast, but we'd very much appreciate any and all details you could tell us about…the, uh. The—"

_Fucking asshole who did this to you._

"—um, the rapist."

At this, the victim's opened eye twitched a tiny fraction – maybe Sharpay was getting through to her, even if only a little bit.

"Really, any information at all, anything you can tell us," she almost pleaded, peering more closely at the victim. "You know, um. Physical features, like height or eye color, hair color maybe…" There was something strange, something hauntingly familiar about her – as if Sharpay had seen her before, a long, long time ago, or –

"Did you say Evans?"

Sharpay blinked rapidly, thought process interrupted, connecting her gaze with the victim's own. The hoarse, raspy, defeated croak was not quite the voice she expected from the tiny, petite woman before her who had clearly fought like hell to hold on to her life.

"Yes," she recuperated, straightening a little. "Sharpay Evans, ma'am."

"It's been a long time."

Sharpay's mouth tilted a little, eyebrows knitting together; a politely confused smile graced her features as she scrambled for an appropriate response.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You do look really familiar, but I mean, I can't – I can't quite—"

"You don't remember?"

And suddenly, realization dawned on Sharpay like someone had punched her in the stomach and unloaded a ton of bricks over her head at the same time. Her mouth dropped open against her free will for the second time that night.

_Holy shit._

"Gabriella?"

* * *

A/N: There it is! I worked pretty hard on this chapter, so I hope it wasn't boring and didn't drag or anything. I'd love to hear your thoughts - please click the little green button and let me know if you're interested and want me to continue. :D


	2. a little too late

Title: White Horse (previously Keep Holding On)

Rating: M

Summary: His betrayal has plagued their lives for seven years. Can Troy finally pull himself together and give Gabriella the life he always knew she deserved, or will he be forced to move on? Troy/Gabriella.

Disclaimer: I would make Disney blush.

Word Count: 2639

A/N: All of the reviews I've gotten are awesome! Thank you guys so much for taking the time to leave me some feedback. It always gets me writing faster. :D

I'm so sorry about the delay of this chapter! I know it's been over 2 months, but I've been swamped with schoolwork. Hopefully this chapter makes up for that a little bit. :)

* * *

"What the _fuck_?"

Sharpay planted her feet, braced her hands against Chad and shoved him in the chest. Hard. She glared up at him disbelievingly.

If Sharpay was honest with herself, she would admit that she was picking on him a little, using him as an opportunity to vent her anger, her frustration.

After what had been probably the most awkwardly phrased stammer of her life, Sharpay had finally had to excuse herself from Gabriella's room. As she gazed at Gabriella, lying almost lifelessly on the bed, old memories flooded the screen of her eyes until the room had barely been visible. All of the times they had spent together—Troy and Gabriella, Sharpay and Chad—East High's very own fantastic four. The star basketball players, the actress, the brainiac. They had formed the most unbreakable of bonds—the most caring of friendships, the most loving of relationships.

But if college hadn't tested those bonds between Sharpay and Chad, something else would have. Distanced and unable to find common ground anymore, they had reached the mutual decision to split from each other—Sharpay still remembered every minute, every detail of the conversation that she never thought would come.

For Troy and Gabriella, however, the situation had become something else entirely. Memories of the months after the infamous breakup in the halls of East High haunted the four of them, and seeing Gabriella again had brought them all back in painful clarity.

It had been too much. And, forgetting just for the moment that Sharpay was never to shirk her police duties due to any personal relationships or concern for the matter at hand, Sharpay had fled. Cowardice ruled her once more, and she was furious that she had let it.

"Do you have any idea who's in there, Danforth? Do you?" she hissed, stabbing him with her forefinger, straining to keep her voice down.

"Calm the fuck down, Sharpay," Chad said, hair bobbing as he struggled, blocking her attempt to begin smacking him in the arm while Troy snorted his laughter into his hand, disguising it very poorly as a cough. Finally Chad caught her wrists, and he clenched them together as his eyes darted back to her face. "What the hell are you on about?

"That girl in there, Chad!" Sharpay hissed venomously, wrenching herself away from him and running her hands through her hair in a frenzy, twisting and pulling the long blonde strands around her slim fingers. "Do you remember her? Did you recognize her at all?"

"What, did we…know her, or something?" There was a pause as Sharpay, furious and completely irrational, continued to yank her hair from her scalp. "Did _I_ uhh, you know. _Know_ her?" Chad asked, scratching his head slowly. Sharpay's nose wrinkled in distaste at his obvious, tactless insinuation, and he took that to be a biting _no_. "Man, Evans, what are you talking about? You can't just come out here and start yelling about some random shit and not tell me what's going on."

"I didn't even really figure it out until she practically told me herself," Sharpay admitted, having moved on to wringing her hands instead. "You didn't even recognize her? Not even a little bit? Are you sure, Chad?" she pressed forward hurriedly as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Yes! Sharpay, come on, what is this all about?"

"We knew her, Chad. All of us did," she insisted, staring at him, trying to make him understand without actually having to say her name out loud. _Come on. Think. You can piece this one together. You need to._

Chad paused for a few moments, gazing at Sharpay intently.

She told herself he was going to figure it out, for once in his life.

But she was wrong. The minutes ticked by, and no glimmer of realization dawned in his eyes.

"I have no idea." He gave up, dumping himself in a chair. "Just tell me, we've been here long enough trying to talk some sense into this woman, and I'm tired of not having any answers."

Silence. Then,

"Chad, it's—it's Gabriella."

Chad blinked at her, hand freezing and still half-buried into his hair. His entire body stilled with the shock of Sharpay's words, and he began to chuckle, shaking his head in a slightly hysterical manner, in a state of complete disbelief; partly at the blunt truth behind her words, and half because now that he thought about it, thought about _her_ and what she had looked like lying on that bed, there was no doubt about it—the victim was unmistakably the very same Gabriella Montez that he had once shared a lunch table with, laughed with, spent the majority of his high school years with. Soon dismay and horror began to consume his features as he struggled against Sharpay's and his own absolute certainty as to her identity, mind almost rejecting the reality behind the closed door in front of him before it threatened to overwhelm him with guilt.

But his reaction was nothing compared to Troy's.

Troy shot out of his chair in a manner envied by bullets and tingling with speed, eyes sharpening to a piercing blue and body language racked simultaneously with both incredulity and alarm. The cerulean pools of his eyes burned, suddenly darkening, his powerful body tensing as if being attacked, and readying itself to strike. Sharpay stepped back, abruptly and unexpectedly afraid of the boy that she had known ever since they were little kids. They'd spent their childhood together, sticking out their tongues by way of greeting and throwing dirt in each other's faces as retaliation. Somehow that relationship morphed into the most important friendship Sharpay had ever had, and suddenly she felt as if the boy standing before her had lost all sense of familiarity. The only time Sharpay had ever seen Troy get anywhere near this upset was at party their senior year, when some drunken idiot had worked up the nerve to attempt to grope his dark haired beauty, the girl that everyone knew Troy Bolton had claimed as his.

Troy's fists curled tightly, knuckles straining until they were white, strong tendons of muscle standing out from his forearms; he made to move towards Sharpay, who managed to stand her ground against his towering, intimidating, frame that was nearly reaching aggression.

He stopped short in front of her, eyes intently searching and hands clasping her shoulders with a terrifying iron strength. She stared at him; she had never seen Troy like this, so strangely possessed by a staggering mixture of rage and uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, holding Sharpay's gaze solidly.

"Wait a minute, back up," Chad said, sounding confused and completely bewildered, despite his best efforts to keep up with the two of them. "You mean Gabriella _Montez_? Troy's—" his voice sputtered and faltered, finally coming to silence at the blazing expression on Troy's face.

"It's her," Sharpay assured him, ignoring Chad entirely.

Troy separated himself from her speculative eyes in an instant, immediately starting for the door to Gabriella's room. His hand had already extended to turn the doorknob when Sharpay's own stopped him gently.

"Troy. It's been a long—"

"I know."

"You don't," she pressed. "You haven't seen her yet, you don't understand. She's had the shit kicked out of her, Troy." Sharpay ignored his flinch, continuing on because—because even though he didn't want to, he needed to hear it. "And you – you – in high school, Troy, you…you broke her."

"Sharpay," came the shattered plea. "Please."

"I just – I'm not sure that seeing you would really be the best thing for her right now. Think about it, Troy. It's been—"

"Sharpay, this is my chance. Don't you get it?" Troy turned towards her sharply, frustrated. His anger resurfaced once more as his eyes bore into hers. "I've been waiting for _years_ for the chance to fix things, to make it up to her, to – god, I don't know, to do something to make things right again. I just, I can't not see her, not when she's so close and I—" he blew out a breath, shoving a hand into his pocket and looking at her. "I've got to see her, Sharpay."

He made once more as if he was moving to open the door. Sharpay bit her lip, toeing her way along the road that would surely lead to hell as she opened her mouth to speak.

"You left her, Troy."

He stopped dead, hand grasping the doorknob so tightly that a pearly white began to form, spiderwebbing across his knuckles and spreading through his veins.

"I didn't leave her."

When his voice reached her ears, it was as if his vocal chords had been dragged through sandtorms and tugged over broken glass. Exhausted. Broken.

_Guilty._

"You didn't physically," Sharpay allowed. "I know it's not like you skipped out of town. But you betrayed her, Troy, and you—well, you never really understood that. You actually kind of suck at interpreting women in general."

Sharpay's attempt to inject some humor into the situation fell flat on the ground as he swiveled his body half-way around to look at her once more.

"I did what I thought was right at the time," Troy hissed, pent-up fury that had been stored up for years suddenly let loose in a flood of frustration. "But you know Gabriella, she's stubborn, can't accept an apology. She wasn't exactly a saint either, if you remember—"

"You broke her fucking _heart_, Troy," Sharpay fired back as Chad looked on uneasily, shifting from one foot to another and holding up his hands while making vague gestures, as if unsure whether he would suffer physical damage from trying to calm his two fellow police officers down. "And then it's like you decided that that just wasn't enough, so you cut it up into little pieces with a rusty old knife and threw it into a blender and stomped the fucking shit out of it. And might I remind you, it was a fairly half-assed apology. You didn't mean it. You have no idea what she was like for those months afterwards, Troy…" her voice trailed off as she looked away from him, caught in a flurry of memories. Her eyes returned to his to emphasize the importance of her next statement. "She never really forgave you. And, to be honest," Sharpay admitted, "I never really have either."

His eyes widened as he processed her words.

"She tried to talk to you for _days_, Troy, and you just ignored her like—"

"I've heard enough," he interrupted shortly, coming to a tense halt right in front of Sharpay and using his height to impose himself upon her intimidatingly. "You forget that Gabriella was the one to accuse me in the first place. She couldn't handle the relationship I was in at the time, and _she_ accused _me_ of being an asshole when I didn't even do anything. She was being distant and weird and she wouldn't explain to me why and suddenly I'm the bad guy in all of this?" Troy snorted in disgust, forcefully pushing past Sharpay and shouldering his way into Gabriella's room.

Greeted by deafening silence, interrupted only by the soft, consistent beeping machines, Troy rested his eyes upon the only woman he had ever loved.

He hadn't seen her in years.

And he still wasn't prepared to.

The beeping machines became agonizingly loud as the utter quiet enfolding the rest of the room swam over him, dominating his senses and clouding his sense of rationality and sensibility.

"Gabriella?"

His stunned voice carried across the room, and he drew in a thin, shallow breath as he stared at the frail body displayed so rawly before him.

The Gabriella Montez he had once known was gone. Her hair, once shining and lustrous, was caked with dirt and blood, the damp tangles shoved carelessly into a series of twisted ropes. He realized with a slight shock that only one of her eyes was able to remain open; it had lost the lively chocolate gleam that had once been a part of Gabriella, replaced with the bitterest brown. With every scrape on her body that his eyes took in, he felt his throat clamp shut in a series of strangled movements.

"Gabriella," he murmured, closing the distance between himself and her bedside, determined to make things right. Somehow, he told himself, they would be okay. _She_ would be okay.

The lack of response was one of the most terrifying things Troy had ever witnessed. It was as if he had never entered the room, let alone spoken. The machines beeped and whirred consistently, and there wasn't so much as a hitch in her breathing.

His attempts became increasingly desperate.

"Gabriella, it's me," he said, hovering a hand over her slim wrist, unsure of whether to touch her or not.

It was this action that seemed to stir a response within her body. Her expressionless face turned slightly; the single, open eye drifted slowly to connect with his.

"Hey," he whispered, a crack of relief interrupting his normally smooth voice. "How—how are you?"

_Bolton, you idiot_, he chided himself. It was clear that Gabriella was most certainly _not_ okay, but the words had tumbled out of his mouth all the same.

"G—Gabriella?" He uttered, eyes tracing her face, uncertain. Her eye was looking directly at his, and yet there was no focus, no clarity of thought. The faintest spark of recognition that Troy had hoped for was nonexistent.

* * *

A/N: Sorry once again for the delay! I'd love to hear your thoughts, feel free to leave them behind by clicking the handy green button. :)


	3. touch

Title: White Horse (previously Keep Holding On)

Rating: M

Summary: She never forgot his betrayal. He has only begun to realize his mistake. Years later, after an encounter due to unexpected circumstances, can he finally pull himself together and give her the life he always knew she deserved? Troy/Gabriella.

Disclaimer: No. :(

Word Count: 3142

A/N: Thanks so much for reviewing my last chapter! All of the comments just blew me away.

I'm so sorry about the updating failure. First my internet went crazy and FF wouldn't let me upload, and then came the standardized testing that hit me in the face. SAT, ACT, and two SAT IIs are now over and done with. I hope…retaking them would be a pain. Whew! Now all I have to worry about is applying for colleges in the fall. :(

And finally, this chapter skips ahead in time, which is something that I've never really played with before. Hopefully it's not too confusing. And to be perfectly honest, for the past couple chapters I've been completely winging it; it's been ages since I've attempted to write something longer than a oneshot. I'm planning out the next ones though, drawing up some ideas and outlines. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. :)

* * *

"Take your time, Ms. Montez. There's no rush here."

"Thank you, Officer," Gabriella murmured as she stepped forward at the indication of his outstretched arm, motioning for her to proceed. With a pale, trembling hand, Gabriella grasped the doorknob ahead of her and twisted, her heart pounding and senses on high alert.

It had been six months, and that still hadn't been enough. Gabriella hated feeling targeted, despised admitting that she felt weak, but she wasn't about to pretend that living alone in her apartment had helped her cope. Every small creak of wood sounded like someone creeping down her hallway, every branch grazing against her window at night looked like a hand slithering along the glass; every minute noise had set her on edge. She had to strain not to cringe at the clink of metal when cooking or eating; her mind would be flooded with the terribly familiar flash of light glinting off of the Carver's blade, the chilling scrape of blade against sharpener. Everything in her life had somehow become a link to his planned actions that were infected with cruelty, to one of the only nights in her life when Gabriella had lost all sense of control.

Taking a shaking breath, Gabriella pressed her lips tightly together and strode into the dark room. Three walls of concrete—and one, made of glass.

Three men faced her. Lined up with their backs to the wall marked by measurements, they seemed indistinguishable from one another at first, merging together to form one blurred, shadowy figure dressed purely in black. Blinking rapidly and trying to focus, Gabriella forced herself to concentrate.

The first man was taller than the other two, around 6'2". It couldn't have been him; Gabriella herself was considerably shorter than the man in question, and she distinctly remembered her attacker's face only a couple inches off from being level with her own when he forced himself against her. Though the glass in front of her was a mirror on the other side, and Gabriella herself could not be seen, the man's dark brown eyes darted constantly from left to right, panicked. The smoothness of his face and incredulity in his eyes conveyed his youth, his confusion at being potentially accused of rape. Gabriella softened, gazing at the innocent man before her before turning her attention to the man in the middle.

He was shorter, but only by a few inches. Clocking in at about 5'10", he stood with his hands behind his back and chin thrust forward indignantly, with the confidence that only someone who knows they have been wrongfully accused can maintain: but Gabriella would have bet anything that his hands were trembling behind his back. Her eyes lined his features slowly, taking in his body type and physical characteristics. There was no way that it was this man either; his build was constructed in a way that you might have expected from someone even taller, all straight lines and lanky limbs. Gabriella distinctly remembered her attacker with a harsher body cut; shorter, stockier.

Struggling not to allow her train of thought to stray from the task at hand, to restrain herself from drifting back to the most awful night of her life, Gabriella turned finally to the last man.

He too was tall, much too tall. He was about 6 foot, his height weighing in between the first two men. And the eyes—a pale, icy green. Dispassionate. She had remembered brown eyes, alive with twisted hunger. Gabriella was surprised that the police department had brought in suspects who so clearly did not fit what little physical description she had given them.

As if reading her mind, the officer who had followed her into the room spoke.

"They're all supposed to fall under a couple of the characteristics that you gave us. None of them are a perfect fit, but…" he spoke to her quietly, almost apologetically. "Let me know if you can decide anything, Ms. Montez. Like I said before, there is absolutely no rush. Don't feel pressured. Take your time."

"That's all right," she responded, surprised at how strong and sure her voice sounded. "None of these men are the Carver. I'm—I'm shocked, actually," she continued. "None of these men fit even half of the physical descriptions that I provided you with. I know you can't really expect the right man on the first try, but Officer, there's no way that you could have thought that any of these men even came close to what I described."

The officer shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, and Gabriella felt mildly ashamed for being so blunt and accusing, but she kept her gaze steady.

"I didn't pick these men, Ms. Montez," he admitted nervously. "I'm just here as an escort, honestly."

"Then take me to the person who did," she requested, already moving to step outside of the door.

"Gabriella."

The sound of his voice as she pulled open the heavy metal door stopped her dead in her tracks.

Looking up, Gabriella's calm demeanor disappeared. Before her stood—

"Officer Bolton."

She pulled herself back together quickly, snapping to take on a cold personality. She addressed him coolly, merely acknowledging his presence as she sidestepped him carefully and continued making her way down the hall.

"Gabriella, wait." A warm, familiar hand on her arm. Gabriella pulled back sharply, spinning to face those burning blue eyes that had once kept her entire world from falling apart.

"What is it that you want, Officer?" Her pointed, formal use of his title caused him to wince, eyes pleading.

"You don't have to call me that, Gabriella. It's still me."

"What do you want?" she repeated, dulling her eyes and crossing her arms. She couldn't let him get to her, to elicit a response. She found that, despite all of the years and struggles that they had suffered through, and the way he had treated her, she couldn't force herself to ignore the smooth, sloping lines of his shoulders or the way his blue eyes still pierced through her. No matter what, she found herself drawn to the flick of his hair, the shape of his lips, the sound of his voice. And to give him access to this information would eat her alive.

"First I want to explain that that was my fault back there," Troy talked quickly, afraid that she would be unwilling to hear him out, a thought not unfounded in truth. "I picked them, and they were completely wrong according to your descriptions on purpose. I knew you'd be mad and want to talk to whoever was responsible and you never gave me the chance the other day to say that—"

"The chance?" she hissed, arms dropping along with her poised appearance. "You don't deserve the chance, Troy. It's been _years_ and you _never_ tried to fix things between us. Don't tell me that you want to start now because you're starting to feel guilty about what you pulled. You made it perfectly clear seven _fucking_ years ago that you wanted nothing to do with me and—what was it you called it again? Oh, yes," she laughed harshly as if she had just recalled. "My 'dirty fucking lies'" Gabriella couldn't help but relish his reaction a bit when he flinched as the words that had echoed at her in the walls of East High flew back and slapped him in the face. "Everybody knew, Troy, but you just wouldn't accept that good little Winnie wasn't who you thought she was. And I am _done_, Troy. I am done trying to make excuses for you and pretend that what you did wasn't wrong. You treated me like shit and you're still treating me the exact same way, bringing me down here so that you could waste my time and hopefully make yourself feel better. Don't even fucking bother. I _forgive _you," she spat sarcastically, shouldering past him.

She had gone exactly three paces before she felt his hands on her again.

He whirled her around to face him, teeth clenched and fingers gripping her arms. She whimpered as his fingers pressed against her not-quite-healed bruises, and he immediately let go, tugging instead at her waist, gently pulling her forward until there was merely an inch of space between them. His eyes bored into hers, hands heating her skin through the thin material of her shirt.

"I'm sorry," he spoke softly, pleading with his eyes, with his voice. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you before, in the hospital, but I didn't know how and you—you wouldn't let me. I'm sorry for everything. For not listening to you and not putting you first, even though that's what we always said. We were supposed to come before everyone else, and I let you down. I'm sorry for—god, I'm sorry for the things that I said and everything that happened. I'm sorry because I wasn't able to say this to you sooner, and I'm sorry that things had to turn out this way. I'm sorry because I was the hugest idiot on the planet and I always took you for granted, and I never told you how much you mean to me. I'm sorry because—" he cut himself short, rephrasing. "I'm pissed, actually, that I wasn't there to protect you for all these years when you needed it the most. I should have been. And I should have realized it sooner. I can't change the past, and I can't change what I did—but you need to know that I'm different now. And I don't just want your forgiveness, Brie." His voice became stronger as she unconsciously fisted her small hands into his shirt, tense as she heard the name that he had always reserved for her. He hadn't said it in years, and she hadn't expected him to ever again.

"I want _you_."

Her anger returned with those last three words. She shoved against his chest, causing him to let go of her in surprise and blink at her, hurt.

"You can't _have_ me, Troy." She spit the words out forcefully, shoving him again to emphasize her words. He was prepared for it this time, and she might as well have been pushing at a brick wall for all of her efforts, but Gabriella didn't let this deter her. "You don't get to just come back into my life after all these years and tell me that you're sorry and hope that everything is going to be okay again, that it'll all go back to the way it was. I've changed, and apparently so have you. We don't know each other anymore, and I plan on keeping it that way. You can't expect me to just fall madly in love with you after all this time, and everything that you've done. I haven't just been sitting here all these years pining for you, waiting for you like some lovesick puppy. You think we can just pick up where we left off, that I can just start loving you again, but I _can't_, Troy."

And okay, he was getting a little ridiculous. No matter what Gabriella did or said, he would simply reach out once more and connect their bodies in some way or another, as if he couldn't hear a word she was saying. One look at his face told her that he was imagining himself as some sort of knight in shining armor, come to save her from demons she had already defeated and bridges that she had long since crossed. He was still stuck in the past, eager to repent for his actions now that he understood, when Gabriella had given up on him years ago. Even as she protested, Troy stepped forward and settled an arm firmly around her waist, fingertips lightly grazing her side, the other hand reaching up her back to tangle into her smooth, wavy strands of hair. This time there was no space left between them; they were pressed together gently, fitting against each other perfectly, in the way that they always had. His actions were so unexpectedly sweet and sincere that her heart stuttered in response, unable to remind her of why she even hated him in the first place.

"Have you ever stopped?"

"I—what?" she said, blown off course by his question and the warmth of his body.

"Did you ever stop loving me?"

Gabriella paused, her body frozen. Her small hands clutched at his arms, and she seemed unable to find any words to answer him.

"Because I haven't. I still lo—"

"Don't." Her words cut him, stinging as they reached his ears. "Don't say it." And then, softer. "Please."

* * *

"G—Gabriella?"

Troy's small, uncertain voice rang throughout the small hospital room. Gabriella's eye blinked, staring at him blankly.

She had recognized Sharpay, hadn't she? How was it possible that she didn't remember Troy?

A beat. Then,

"Get out."

Troy's eyes sharpened, focusing on Gabriella. Her dry lips were as immobile as they had been when he had entered the room, and her voice had sounded rough and torn—hours of unheard screams for help did that to you. His body froze, unsure of how to react.

"Gabriella, it's me. It's Troy."

"I told you to leave."

She responded so quickly that she nearly interrupted him. He started towards her unthinkingly, hand reaching forward when—

"_Don't touch me_."

The words were delivered like a sharp slap to the face; his eyebrows knit together in anger and pain as he strode forward, framing her delicate face with rough, calloused hands. She blinked up at him, doe eyes suspiciously glassy and teeth gently pinching the already bruised flesh of her bottom lip. Trembles ran through her body, and his heart beat accelerated in response as his eyes traced the soft curve of her mouth. Troy pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, hoping that his sudden overwhelming need to have her in his arms would be satisfied; on the contrary, he simply ached for more. One strong, sure hand slid carefully underneath her back, lifting her against him. His lips moved across her cheek, nearing her lips.

Gabriella came alive under his touch, screaming with ripped vocal chords and lashing out at him with her tiny, ineffectual fists.

"Stop!"

The single word whipped through the air, and Troy secured her wrists in his hands, holding her palms against his chest.

"Gabriella, I—"

"Security!"

"Gabriella, _I'm_ security," Troy said incredulously, as he was wearing his uniform in plain sight. His rejection brought everything back into clear focus; he realized the stupidity of his actions, and felt the events of the last seven years come back to him. He'd been too caught up in seeing her again, in having the chance to make everything up to her, to remember that they hadn't seen each other in years; that Gabriella had probably moved on. It was too little too late, and for the first time in his life Troy regretted that he was always one to act on impulse; always leaping before he thought. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want—"

"Troy."

Sharpay had appeared at the door. She extended a hand, gesturing for him to leave, a gentle expression shaping her features, the corners of her mouth tugged downwards and the lines of her face tinged with sympathy and pain—and perhaps a bit of controlled fury.

Troy looked hopelessly back at Gabriella, whose tears were now streaming freely down her face. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air through her pale lips, hands clutching the twisted bed sheets at her sides, bloody, broken fingernails turning white under the pressure. Her lips moved soundlessly as her eyes darted across the ceiling, sobs wracking her small frame.

He watched her, chest aching. He felt his own eyes moisten, and he blinked furiously, driving away the tears.

"Let's go, Troy." Sharper this time, and Troy jerked to attention, following Sharpay out the door and away from Gabriella.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. :) Don't forget to leave your thoughts behind!


	4. mistakes

Title: White Horse

Rating: M

Summary: His betrayal has plagued their lives for seven years. Can Troy finally pull himself together and give Gabriella the life he always knew she deserved, or will he be forced to move on? Troy/Gabriella.

Disclaimer: Disney would never, ever let me work for them. Then nothing would be rated G anymore.

Word Count: 2806

A/N: First things first: I changed the title of this story because I felt that "White Horse" was more fitting (it too references the song by Taylor Swift that I quoted in chapter 2). And secondly, I realized after completing this chapter that even though I had all of these future chapters planned out… when I started typing this one up, it had a mind of its own and was completely different than everything I had planned, so this was entirely made up as I went along. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. :)

And lastly, my one-shot "Game On" was nominated for Sexiest One-Shot at the LJ awards community for HSM fanfiction, intothelines! I had no idea my work was even being considered until I received a message telling me so. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and nominated "Game On"; this means more to me than I can communicate in mere words. Thank you guys so much, and congratulations to every other author whose work was nominated! And now on with this chapter. :)

* * *

"Troy, you are such a dumbass."

Sharpay closed the hospital door with a sharp _click_ and grasped Troy's elbow with surprising strength for her thin frame, steering him down the white plaster hallway. Nurses and doctors stared as Sharpay stalked past them, dragging Troy with her. Chad had gotten up from his chair and was following them, a slightly confused look registering on his face, his hair bobbing, but Sharpay chose to ignore him. Digging her nails into his skin, which caused Troy to let out a surprised yelp, she used her free hand to smack him on the arm. Hard.

"Sharpay, we've really got to get you enrolled in some anger management classes or something. This is becoming a problem. Also, you're kind of scaring me."

"Shut up, Chad," Sharpay said impatiently, turning to face Troy. "What were you _thinking_, Troy? Gabriella is a rape victim. _Rape_ victim. That doesn't exactly scream 'kiss me' to you, does it? You remember that rape means _without _consent, don't you? That she was forced to have sex against her will? God," she continued, frustration really building now. Chad looked at her, a mildly disturbed look crossing his features at her words. "Plus, have you totally forgotten the conversation we just had about how to her, you're still the biggest dirtbag to ever grace this planet? That you ruined everything her high school experience was supposed to be? Did you forget that you're supposed to act like an officer of the law and not let personal feelings get in the way, not let them dictate your actions? You owe her the respect that any officer owes the victim they're supposed to be protecting and comforting, at the very least. Especially since you two have a history." As Troy opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, Sharpay forged ahead. "Oh, yeah, and did you forget that you have a _girlfriend_?"

Troy blinked, staring at her.

"Right," he said, swallowing hard. "Girlfriend."

"Tall, dark red hair? Legs that go on for days? Looks like a freaking supermodel?" No sign of recognition or even of acknowledgment could be found on Troy's face, and Sharpay heaved a sigh, deciding to take on a harsher approach. "You can't go around kissing other girls, Troy," she said pointedly, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. He barely reacted.

"Wow, Sharpay wasn't exaggerating." Chad nudged Troy's shoulder with the back of his hand, gazing at him incredulously. "Man, Troy. You _kissed_ her?"

"No! Kind of—god, I don't even know." Troy sat down in a hard plastic chair bolted into the wall, head in his hands, fingers gripping the chestnut strands of hair, the tendons of his forearms standing out. "She just looked so broken, and I just stopped thinking and all I wanted to do was hold her, to feel her again in my arms, where she belongs. That's all, Sharpay, I swear. I wasn't trying to hurt her."

"In your arms, Troy?" Sharpay barked a laugh, in utter disbelief that Troy had managed to lose himself in the past once again, that he truly believed he could make things right again with Gabriella. It wasn't as if Sharpay had been the only one to witness the infamous fight that had reverberated in the halls of East High, the fight that had ripped apart her two closest friends. Pulling herself back to the present, Sharpay continued. "Gabriella hasn't belonged there for years. I think with everything she's had to suffer through in the past few days, you would have realized that. You're only hurting her again—hurting her _more_."

Troy's head lifted, pain evident in the lines of his face, his distraught, swirling blue eyes catching Sharpay off guard.

"I never meant to." His voice was raw with emotion, and Sharpay softened at his words.

"It doesn't matter," she reminded him gently, sitting down next to him. "You can't change what you did, Troy. And all things considered, I'm not sure she's going to let you try and make it up to her."

"I have to, Sharpay. You don't understand, I just—I have to."

"Well," Sharpay murmured, studying the determination gleaming in his eyes. "Good luck with that."

* * *

"_Back off, Gabriella."_

_The deep, possessive, rumbling voice echoed through the hallway. Gabriella ignored thin blonde cheerleading captain standing beside the voice's owner, turning to face instead the boy she had known all her life, the boy she had secretly been pining after for as long as she could remember. There was something about the way his sandy hair flicked into his eyes, something about the way his hand came up to rub the back of his neck when he was nervous, the way that he ducked his head and his cheeks flushed when he was embarrassed. But now his once familiar face seemed disturbingly foreign, his hardened features outlined by the harsh curve of his jaw as it clenched in frustration. His blue eyes, once electric and alive, were now dull. Haunted._

"_I can't, Troy. I won't."_

"_Gabriella," Troy hissed between his gritted teeth, his eyes flashing furiously. "Let it go."_

"_Troy, come on. You know her, she's not one to give up any time soon. You're just wasting your time standing here arguing with her, especially with an audience. Let's go." A manicured hand closed around Troy's arm. He shook it off, not taking his eyes off of Gabriella._

"_Everyone can see it but you, Troy." Gabriella was aware that the halls were deathly quiet now; an awkward, fragile silence had settled over the students of East High as they lined the hallway in small clusters, nervously whispering to one another about the venomous verbal match that was currently taking place in their midst. But Gabriella was past caring about what her fellow students thought; she refused to lose Troy over something so stupid, and she didn't care who knew it._

"_See what, Gabriella? You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know Winnie at all." Winnie's hidden, triumphant smirk was enough to piss Gabriella off even further. As she opened her mouth to spit out a retort, eyes narrowed, Troy uttered the single phrase that she would never forget for the rest of her life._

"_And you don't know me."_

_Gabriella's breath slammed in the back of her throat. Her hands trembled, slowly turning numb as she took in his words._

"_What?" The question was spoken so softly that it would have been unheard if not for the eerie silence blanketing the observing crowd._

"_You don't know me anymore, Gabriella."_

_Her eyes darted to his face, seeking the familiar comfort of the twinkle of his blue eyes, the lopsided tilt of his mouth. She was met instead with a cold, hard indifference; a steely diamond blue, devoid of concern and emotion._

"_Troy, don't do this." Her voice broke, tears creating a thin, glassy film over her eyes. "Please. Don't do this to us."_

"_What us, Gabriella?" Troy spread his arms wide, encompassing the empty air between them. "Be honest with yourself. When was the last time we spoke and didn't end up arguing? Can you even remember?"_

"_There is no 'us' when it comes to you and Troy," Winnie cut in, her nostrils flaring as she gazed at Gabriella. The sickly sweet voice washed over Gabriella in nauseating waves. "In case you forgot, I'm the one dating Troy. I'm the one he chose. Nobody believes you and your lies, Gabriella, and it's pathetic that you just keep on trying. Why can't you just get over it already? You lost him. You lost, period. I won."_

_Gabriella snapped._

"_One more word from you and I swear to fucking god—"_

"_Don't threaten her," Troy snarled, a possessive hand steering Winnie behind his taut figure, glaring down at Gabriella._

"_Winnie's using you, Troy!" she burst out, unable to keep it to herself any longer. "Everybody knows it! God, how could you be so blind? Do you really think she cares about you, about your relationship? Do you think that once you give it up to her, she'll stay with you? You—Jesus, you're being so naïve, Troy. If you knew the things she said about you…" Gabriella blew out a harsh breath, taking a step closer to her former best friend. His eyes followed her movements carefully, in a distanced, calculated fashion. She ignored the sting of his refusal to recognize the relationship they had once had, and plunged forward. "You have to believe me, Troy. We've been best friends since kindergarten, you know I—" Gabriella bit her lip. _I'd never do anything to hurt you._ "I heard her myself. So did everyone else in the locker room before the last game, Troy. Winnie just wants to be able to go around and say that she's fucked the East High basketball star. That she got you, the boy who was once untouchable, invincible, to give yourself to her so that she could break you." Troy flinched at her blunt words as he rounded on her, staring furiously into those dark, defiant eyes._

"_You're a liar," he spat between his teeth, ignoring the clench of his stomach as her eyes filled with hurt, replacing the fury that they had possessed only moments ago._

"_You're a liar," he repeated, stronger this time. "Just because we're not as close as we once were doesn't give you the right to try and destroy my relationship with Winnie. You're jealous, and quite honestly, I'm tired of pretending not to notice."_

"_I'm not jealous, Troy," Gabriella denied incredulously. How could he know? He'd never seen her as anything other than his best friend before, and he never would._

I love you.

_Troy laughed shortly, a cruel, ugly look molding his pristine features. "Why don't you take your dirty fucking lies and go and infect someone else's life?"_

_Gabriella's heart stopped. The pain ripped through her, slashing angry, invisible gashes into her small frame._

"_Troy, please—"_

"_No." He cut her off swiftly, shortly. "We're done. Let's go, Winnie."_

_Tossing a smarmy, satisfied smile over her shoulder, behind the safety of her boyfriend's back, Winnie slipped her arm into Troy's and sauntered away, a clear expression of triumph playing across her face._

* * *

"We need to deploy a full-time unit to watch over the Carver's fifth victim, Miss Montez. We have reason to believe that all five victims require 24 hour surveillance, or night surveillance at the very least, as the Carver seems to be making a habit of returning to, for lack of a better word, monitor his victims. We have two cases where the Carver has returned to his victims to 'silence them' when he thought they were getting too bold with the press. Since we already have the previous four covered, and we have no way of predicting who his next victim is, we don't want to take any chances. Any takers?"

Troy was standing before the Captain was finished speaking.

"I'll do it, sir."

The Captain raised his eyebrows critically, examining the poorly disguised eagerness in Troy's face.

"Are you sure, Bolton? From what Evans and Danforth told me—"

"I'm positive, sir. I'm the best man for the job, I promise you."

"Captain, I don't think Officer Bolton is being entirely truthful."

Silence came over the conference room as all eyes focused upon Sharpay.

"Sharpay, what are you doing?" Troy glared at her, bending down to hiss lowly into her ear. His sudden temper twisted his features, but Sharpay steeled herself against the black fury that his tense posture exuded. "You know she'll be safe with me. You know I won't let anything hurt her."

"I also know that you're too personally involved with her situation, Troy," Sharpay insisted, not bothering to lower her voice. "What if you end up doing something stupid? Haven't you thought about how you could potentially hurt Gabriella by doing this?"

The Captain watched their argument coolly, a feeling of tiredness and slight annoyance coming over him.

"Bolton," he interrupted their squabble with a roll of his eyes. "I know you'd do a fine job. But Evans might be right for once. Do you really believe you can overcome whatever personal connections you have to this woman and do what is best for her in a time of crisis? Sometimes that involves standing by and calling for backup, something that you can only see is best if you have a clear mind. Attachment to the subject may not be a good thing in this case."

Sharpay ignored her superior's ribbing and leaned forward intently, focusing on Troy.

"It's up to you, Troy. But you have to consider the fact that you could end up causing more harm to her than anything else, which we both know is the opposite of what you want. Don't do something stupid just because you want an excuse to be close to her again."

"Sharpay," Troy said, a commanding tone altering his voice. "You know I can do this."

The Captain was now staring at them with his head in one hand, propped up against the podium.

"Fine. You're on the case, Bolton, since you're so desperate to prove yourself and your undeniable level of testosterone to our entire unit."

A look of relief tinged with vague embarrassment became vivid on Troy's face. Then, as he opened his mouth to thank his superior, the Captain added another condition.

"Take Evans with you. You start surveillance tonight."

"What? Sir—" Troy began, confused, but the Captain cut him off.

"Evans keeps you in check, Bolton. And don't bother denying it, we all know it's true." Snickers were heard throughout the conference room as Sharpay laughed despite herself at the affronted look on Troy's face.

"In the mean time, Cross and Danforth, you two partner up to even things out. We'll see how you two work together. Bolton, Evans, I want you two to head over to Montez's apartment and let her know that you're the deployed unit. Explain to her the surveillance system while you're installing it, and that bugging her place is for her safety, and shouldn't be considered as an invasion of privacy. Make sure she understands that this is for her own protection. She's a smart girl, she'll get it. Address any questions she has, and discuss the safety phrase or word with her, of her choosing. Don't for a second let her think that the two of you won't do a good job of protecting her just because one of you was boneheaded when you knew her in high school, from what I've gathered. Any questions of your own, you know to contact me. Head over to tech to gather up your supplies. Dismissed, everyone."

Low murmurs filled the room as Troy and Sharpay's fellow officers stood and stretched, grabbing their coffee and bags and getting ready to start the day.

Troy gathered his things slowly, turning to see Sharpay's half-amused, half-exasperated face, carefully avoiding direct eye contact.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

* * *

A/N: For some reason this chapter seemed much harder to write than the others. We've finally gotten a clearer taste of what Troy did to Gabriella in this chapter, and why they haven't talked in years. I hope I didn't disappoint! Also, I hope you guys enjoyed, and please don't forget to click the pretty review button and tell me what you think! :)


End file.
